


When I Sleep, I’m Gonna Dream of How You (Tasted)

by docmcqueen



Category: Cars (Pixar Movies)
Genre: Blow Job, Daddy Kink, Emotional Sex, Humanized Cars, M/M, Men wearing makeup, Oral, doc is like 70, lightning is like 40
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 02:10:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20858489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/docmcqueen/pseuds/docmcqueen
Summary: Lighting lets the girls put lipstick on him, Doc likes it, lighting wants to mark him up. Basically lipstick blowjob.





	When I Sleep, I’m Gonna Dream of How You (Tasted)

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @genderrfluidharry if ya liked and leave kudos if ya want <3

You have no idea how you got here. Or, maybe how you _let_ yourself get here.

You’re staring at yourself in Doc’s fancy bathroom mirror. You didn’t really know bathroom mirrors could _be_ fancy until you started living with him, but you guess that’s just something else he’s improved in your life. Another thing he’s opened your mind to, like washing your bed sheets more than once a year, changing your mattress _ever_, buying new underwear when one starts to tear and fall apart.

You look different. Not _bad_, just different. You don’t really know how to feel about it. You don’t know how Sally and Cruz convinced you to let them do it. You stare at your red stained lips in the mirror, head cocked, unsure and a bit insecure. your lips aren’t stained, they’re painted. it was done on purpose. They’re not red from kissing or biting but by a purposeful drag of red wax across your lips.

You’ve always thought makeup was interesting, _pretty_. That doesn’t feel like something that should be associated with you, but Doc’s helped you with that too. Helped you feel desired, and wanted, and hot, even beautiful. His soft words have done more for your self-esteem than years of girls throwing themselves at you ever have.

You’re not against guys wearing makeup, you’ve seen it become pretty popular recently, so it doesn’t shock you. That’s something you can finally teach Doc about instead of the other way around.

Maybe that’s why you’re nervous. Doc’s _old_, and that’s _hot_ but it also means he’s old fashioned with some things. Shiny dress shoes, old man robe, ironed slacks, pristine button ups. You’re scared of what he’ll think of it. Of the spill of blood across your lips, maroon, sally had said even though Cruz insisted it was _actually_ burgundy. Whatever it is, you think you like it and that sends a twinge of fear in your gut you haven’t felt in a long time. Not since Doc, not since Radiator Springs.

You know Doc would never ridicule you, never say anything to _hurt_ you, but still, you worry. What if he pretends to like it just for your sake, what if he laughs thinking it’s a joke, that you’d only ever wear it as a joke, what if-

The sound of the front door unlocking stops your frenzied thoughts in their tracks. You almost wipe it off but decide not to at the last second. You know doc loves you, supports you. He wouldn’t be mean, especially not about this. You muster up as much courage as you can_, I am speed, _and open the bathroom door.

Dammit, he’s so hot. You’re suddenly feeling a lot less confident. He smiles at you, all soft and sweet like you know he only does in front of you. He’s reaching out, probably to ruffle your hair. You know the exact moment he realizes what’s on your face because his hand freezes on its way to you, left grasping at the air instead. His eyes are wide and you’re nervous but you also love this man so you hope he isn’t about to dump you for some color you decided to put on your lips because who’s business is it anyway? What do you care? You’re Lightning Mcqueen and you do what you want and-

“Kid,” he says softly, voice raspy like it does when he’s telling you off after a shit race but also like it does when you’ve turned him on. You’re hoping it’s the latter, but you have no idea and suddenly all of your bravado is gone. “What did you do?” he asks, the hand once stuck in midair now on your burning cheek. His face is twisted in a mix of confusion and awe, like he’s looking at something he doesn’t understand. That makes your heart lurch, because you feel like Doc is the only person who _actually_ understands you, the deepest parts of you, not just physically, though he definitely knows you better in that respect, but _emotionally_, mentally. Hell, he’s the only person you’ve told your real name to since you were 20. He knows you better than anyone, so if even _he_ can’t understand this-

“It’s stupid, sally and Cruz wanted to do it- I’ll take it off.” you stammer out desperately trying to hide how devastated you are. You grab the hand on your face trying to get him to let you go so you can go and wash off the stupid lipstick, but just holds you tighter, brings his other hand up too, now cradling your face like a wounded bird, and maybe that’s what you are.

“_Shit_, baby I didn’t mean- it’s nice, suits ya.” He tells you, thumbs swiping under your embarrassingly damp eyes. His voice is sure, none of the confusion from before. “Just surprised is all.”

Your heart feels warm all of a sudden, all cold fear and uncertainty gone with just a couple of words from him. God, you’re _whipped_ but you don’t even care. You grab his hands and smile, face flaming.

“You really think so?” You ask him, looking up through your lashes. You’re preening and fishing for compliments and he knows it, is used to you playing the simpering insecure rookie, begging for compliments and approval. It’s not fully an act, but that’s yours and Doc’s business.

“Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” he tells you in that voice again, his eyes all steely like you like. now you _know_ he’s not angry, he’s turned on. You smirk at him and cheer internally at the intake of breath that follows. His half-lidded eyes flick down to your lips and you know what he’s thinking. Suddenly, you’re back to your Lightning Mcqueen confidence now that you’re sure you can decipher the look in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you? Please? Wanna mark you, cover you in red. You always look so handsome in red.” you whisper, an inch away from his lips, begging, buttering him up, acting coy. You don’t know where the urge comes from but suddenly you want him covered in lipstick. _Your_ lipstick. You want to see a red lip stain on his collar like in the movies, you want your perfume on his sleeve, you want a strand of your blonde hair to get stuck to his slacks for everyone in radiator springs to know that he’s taken, that he’s _yours_.

“You possessive little shit. Course you can, never have to ask, don’t gotta bribe me, baby.” He says smirking, breathing against you. Your lips are a centimeter apart now, the red of your lips staining his bottom lip. You flush in pleased embarrassment, probably matching your lipstick and that makes you blush harder. You probably look like your wearing even more makeup than you are. The thought makes you groan into the air between you.

You finally close the gap and kiss him with all you’re worth, just lips no tongue, just the red of your lipstick standing between the two of you. You pull away just to _see_, just to look at what you’ve done, and you gasp. His lips aren’t as red as yours but they’re stained, and there’s red on his mustache, and your cock twitches where its pressed against his thigh. You wrap your arms around his neck and peck him again and again all over his lips, his neck, everywhere just to watch the trail you leave behind. He _lets_ you, might even be enjoying it, his breathing is uneven so he must be right? You hope so because you never want to stop, you’re so desperate for it. You want him covered in you, you want your lipstick all over his face, his chest, his _dick_. God, that should be embarrassing, and it _is,_ but you want it so suddenly, can imagine it so vividly, you can’t hold back.

“Daddy,” you mumble against his lips like a prayer. He knows what you’re about to ask before you’ve even asked it. You want to suck him off so bad, so desperately. Want your lipstick on his cock, his balls, his _ass_. And he knows it somehow, just with that one desperate word ripped out of you like a confession.

“Baby,” he rasps out, voice wrecked, and you haven’t even tasted his spit yet. “Wanna suck daddy’s cock, get your rouge all over me? Wanna get me all messy baby boy?” he asks you, voice as far gone as yours.

You groan and rub your cheek into his gray-dusted chest hair, leaving a mark there for good measure. He always knows exactly what you want, what you _need_. You’re embarrassed, but the shame just makes your cock flex, your throat dry. “Yes, please.” you admit, and the shame makes you squirm in duel embarrassment and arousal.

“Get on your knees for me, baby.” He _tells_ you, doesn’t ask because he knows he doesn’t have to, knows you’d get on your knees in the middle of the track if he dared to ask. You sink down with a moan, at the sharp pain in your knees, at the hot shame in your belly, at the way he’s looking down at you, blue eyes staring into your soul. The bluest you’ve ever seen, bluer even, because he’s so turned on. By _you, _you and your red stained lips, _god_.

Your hands are trembling unbuckle his fancy belt and unzip his fancy slacks, your breath coming out in gasps, your stomach clenching in anticipation. You don’t usually lose your self this soon, this _quickly_. You feel crazy with it, like the lipstick has made you feel daring and sexy, like a model, like you’re finally seeing yourself in Docs eyes. You want him so bad you can hardly breathe, want him red stained and moaning, the way he gets when you’ve broken down his composure, sliced him open, left him in tatters of want and need. You want him in your lipstick more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life so you rip his pants down as fast as you can, eyes wild and wanting.


End file.
